


Migraine

by sian1359



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Comment Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny gets a migraine, Steve is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for Zortified's prompt "Danny suddenly begins having migraines. Author's choice as to why" in the hawaii_50_hc comm's Hawaii Five-0 Hurt/Comfort Comment-fic Meme!

The doctor had given Danny the list for postconcussive syndrome which, of course, Steve had taken a hold of immediately, then had it duplicated and taped all over their damn offices, not to mention at least four refrigerators (though Danny suspected five, and if he ever proved that that was how Grace had gotten the copy that he'd found in her backpack, he'd give _Steve_ a fucking concussion). The thing was, Danny didn't need the list. This wasn't his first, or even his fourth, though this was the first time he'd gotten one as a direct result of another person's actions, and the first time one that had been classified above 'mild', as had been the ones after the skateboarding incident, the biking incident, sliding into Johnny Macken's left knee at homeplate, him being stupid enough to think it'd been easier for Matt to have Danny teach him how to drive instead of their dad, and that one time he and his partner had chased that perp into the abandoned building -- the condemned, abandoned building that had been boarded up on the outside because the boards on the inside were mostly rotted away.

Danny knew all of the symptoms to look out for, knew that the damn business could persist for months, and that just wasn't fucking fair, as Steve had been the one who'd been shot and was already back to full ninja fighting trim while Danny was currently hunched over a disgusting john beachside near Kamekono's shaved ice stand, doing his best not to puke and break his streak dating back to 1996, even though it had been nearly three months since Kekipi _Jones_ (hah!) had tried to hit his own home run with a baseball bat and Danny's head. He'd even had the persistent headaches for the first week after; frankly glad that McGarrett had been layed up during the same time and it had been someone else's job to watch over the testosterone-laden idiot.

Thinking about the nearness of what had almost happened to them, more than what actually had, well, Danny had been pissing going into the bust without back-up in the first place, then downright bitchy when he'd gotten hit and absolutely panicked when Steve had gone down after being shot with Danny's own gun. Adding a blinding headache that stayed around for eight days (even if it had decreased in it's intensity to where Danny only wanted to maim someone, not kill them) to his anger at Steve for scaring him to death would not have been productive to either of their recoveries and Danny had been a big enough man to admit it. Thus he'd kept his distance other than a few stops to make sure Steve wasn't succumbing to any complications before really going his distance and going back home to his folks in Jersey during his own time on medical waivers since the whole team was on stand-down until he and McGarrett were back on their feet.

They'd been back on their feet and back in the thick of things now for nearly six weeks, things between him and McGarrett pretty much back to normal, along with Danny's head being pretty much back to normal, though he did find himself spending a little too much time now thinking about how miserable he'd been back in Jersey -- even under his mom's care -- and how happy he'd been to see the big galoot standing like something out of _GQ_ version of _Surfer's Weekly_ , waiting at the airport for Danny's arrival. Seeing Grace the next night had been better, of course, but not by as much as it should have.

They'd been back to work for forty-five days, and Danny had been headache free for thirty-two of those days straight, which was why, he decided, this one had ambushed him so badly. A little tightness, a little stress and maybe slightly rising blood pressure was par for the course when McGarrett was called over the Governor's office and Danny was told to stay behind. As mixed-up as that lady sometimes was over priorities and her variable definition of what full immunity and means meant, she was at least savvy enough to know that berating Steve in front of his team would insure the rest of them stood up alongside Steve and, frankly, shut her out, despite all of the grief Danny normally gave Steve for screwing up and getting them into trouble. Pat Jameson still acted as though she was in control of their Task Force, but she was also a smart lady who knew where and to whom their true loyalty was given.

Danny was still going to give Steve shit over getting called on the carpet -- or maybe not. He wasn't sure when he'd come to recognize Steve by his touch and his smell (was absolutely not going to think about that), but he did. And that smell, especially, which blocked out the rancid acridness of his surroundings as Steve tugged Danny over enough to lean into his chest while Steve placed a cool, wet cloth of some kind against the back of Danny's neck, was so very welcome right now, as was the subsequent, firm strength and gentle touch that was holding him up and holding him together.

Danny would have been embarrassed by the whimpers that escaped his lips, would be embarrassed soon enough, he figured, but right now he was simply grateful. Grateful for Steve's quiet presence and his stupid man-handling ways. In a few minutes Danny regained enough control over his body to accept Steve's help in standing up and getting the hell away from the stinking sweatbox he'd trapped himself into.

The thought of being back out in the stupid, pineapple-bright sun scared the shit out of Danny. He slowed down as they approached the bathroom's opening. Not that he'd opened his eyes or was going to open them, what with Steve's careful guidance. He could feel the increasing breeze, however, though the opening and decided the relief the fresh air would offer was enough to offset the threatening blindness. Trust Steve to have the covered too -- or Kamekono, maybe, since the fingers that handed him a pair of sunglasses were much thicker than Steve's, plus the quiet, gliding touches against Danny's arm and neck hadn't really stopped and while Danny accused Steve of being some kind of marine creature more than once, he wasn't an octopus some other multi-limbed magician --

"Not a magician, or even a ninja," came the soft whisper in his ear and maybe Danny was making more sounds than his pathetic whimpers and groans, which was just another thing to be embarrassed about, or maybe not because Steve wasn't letting go and wasn't ending the pretty damn intimate touching, not even when Danny heard the sound of a car door opening and he was being helped in, with Steve following.

Not his Camaro because he wasn't having to bend over very much or contort into the scrunched back seat, and not Steve's truck because he wasn't having to leap for the step up or haul himself in. Danny finally decided it was a van -- Kamekono's maybe, when another door opened and whatever he was being arranged in tipped under enough weight that Danny's horizon tilted enough to threaten his stomach again. Only Steve was there, right with him instead of driving, was maneuvering Danny into a leaning position and removing the sunglasses before encouraging Danny to rest his head against Steve's shoulder. In seconds another one of those wonderful, wet clothes started being rubbed gently over his face even as the drying, warmed-up one around his neck was replaced with a new one too.

Danny didn't want to think about what kind of kinky love nest Kamekono had set up in the back of a van, something with no seats and no seatbelts, something that had a handy cooler and shag carpet or something else scratchy but soft, what felt like pillows, and --

"It's a futon, and yes it's clean, and no, it's never been used as a love nest," Steve was whispering again, then shushing Kamekono's hearty "whatever you say, bruddah," when Danny whimpered this time from the loud noise instead of the intensity of Steve's continual touching.

Danny was starting to shiver, from the cool air of the van's AC, and from clothes and the small amounts of water trickling down his face and neck. Shivering from the more deliberate, though still meager drops of water now being massaged into his hair and scalp, and the fingers that were almost tickling, almost scratching at his neckline and across the back of shoulders. He could feel endorphins kicking in from the stimulation, knew that Steve was inducing them on purpose to counter the pulsing ache in his head. Knew also that he was tired of pretending and denying and wishing he was being touched by Steve like this for a different reason, though this time he bit down on his lip to make sure that didn't escape from his rambling, swirling thoughts. He had enough to concentrate on between the agony and ecstasy, between trying to figure out where he was being taken and keeping his stomach from reacting to either the driving or the weakness he was exhibiting, not to mention how he was going to play all this off when he'd recovered, to through in an inappropriate reaction or fantasy.

At least the pain was still pounding enough he didn't have to worry about sporting an erection in addition to everything else.

The van came to a stop, though it actually took the door being opened across from him and another set of hands reaching for him, for Danny to become aware they'd arrived. Steve's he guessed, then had it confirmed in Steve's careful murmurs against his ear that was almost enough to start getting him hard. Moving again quickly put paid to that, despite how careful Kamekono and Steve were being, and a slight miscalculation on someone's part had Danny stumbling, then twisting out of their grips to fall -- onto the lawn instead of the driveway or sidewalk, thankfully -- finally loosing the battle between his stomach and his will.

At least Danny hadn't eaten lunch, as he and Steve had been planning on meeting after Steve's appointment with the Governor for that. Breakfast had been hours ago and slight at that, so he was mainly puking up water and bile. Which was enough, thank you, and he was going to show one Kekipi Jones why he'd been MVP three years in Little League and once in High School --

"Once we get you better, I'll hold him for you," Steve promised, his voice a mixture of sympathy and amusement, but also holding a hint of darkness that said that Steve was serious, if Danny was.

If a few tears leaked out of the corner of Danny's eyes from that, well he could easily enough blame it on puking.

"Should I --" Kamekono started in no doubt what he thought was a whisper and, yeah, he only sounded like he was using a bullhorn instead of a microphone turned up to eleven which was his normal, boisterous way.

"Go on ahead and get the door open, would you?" Steve cut him off in a much better whisper, but then Steve would have had practice back with his SEAL buddies, needing to whisper orders but still be heard and understood.

Danny also heard the sound of keys exchanging hands, then Kamekono's heavy footsteps moving away.

"You think you're ready to get up?" he was asked.

Danny could make out Steve's shoes, tucked back a little but not because Steve was afraid Danny might get him next time; Steve had stayed crouched next to Danny this entire time, holding Danny that he didn't collapse into his own sick and Danny's knee began to ache at just the thought. Though that also said something pretty awesome about Steve's thighs and endurance --

"You'll get your chance to find out, Danno."

Danny groaned and thought about getting sick again, but then realized that while he might have spilled more than his stomach contents just now, Steve wasn't pushing him away. Not even a little bit. That the next touch that he felt was from lips, albeit to his temple, in quite the way he might have kissed a sick Grace, or how his mom (and dad) had done so when he was the one sick or injured.

The feel of Steve's forehead then pressing where his lips had, however, was not the touch of comfort, or not _just_ and maybe the comfort was being taken both ways. Given too, Danny hoped, when he pushed up from the ground and steady himself against Steve, giving a squeeze of thanks and more in return before making it to his feet.

Steve was steady and upright long seconds before Danny even with Danny starting first, ready with an arm to give Danny the support and grounding he needed, though he stomach felt better for emptying itself, not that he would ever admit it. Steve helped him up the walk and into the house, then over to the couch, coming back in a few minutes after thanking and seeing Kamekono off, his hands full of crackers, a bottle of water, and a soda can.

"I'm not pregnant, babe," Danny said as he squinted, his need to actually see Steve and make sure he hadn't been making things up in his head overriding his concern with the brightness. He needn't have worried on either account, as Steve (or Kamekono) had shut all of the curtains to block the surrounding windows, and the face Steve was giving him now was one Danny had never expected to see directed his way.

"One of my classmates at Annapolis used to get hormonal migraines. She swore by the crackers, not just for the nausea, but for the pain. The caffeine, too, despite what most doctors say."

"Still not a girl," Danny growled even as he let Steve set him up enough to swallow some of the water and spit it into the pan Kamekono had so kindly found and placed nearby. Danny started to baulk at the cracker held out for him like he used to have to hold Grace's spoon of peas, but then figured what the hell. He'd already broken his streak, and if he just puked it all back up again, he wasn't the one who was going to have to clean it up. There was also the chance that Steve's classmate's little home remedy might work, and right now he'd try almost anything to get the pain to stop. Though he had his own ideas of what he'd like Steve to try again.

Steve pushed himself into the corner of the couch so that when he encouraged Danny to lay down again, his head was in Steve's lap. Instantly Steve's fingers started carding through Danny's hair while he held out another cracker. "Let's argue who's going to be on top later. Though, personally, I think it's more fun switching."

Steve wasn't so much of a bastard to have said that when Danny was still swallowing the next cracker. Danny still coughed a little, and gave a twitch, which threatened to undo all of the good they two of them had so far accomplished. Only Steve was back his fingers, this time with both hands, and once again the endorphins -- and Danny's heart -- started singing. Especially when he felt Steve's lips against his temple again.

"Don't worry, Danno, I'm here for the long haul."

Knowing that Steve wasn't just talking about the convoluted massage, Danny gave a little nod and let his eyes close again, no longer fighting to stay strong, repressed, or even awake. He was a long haul kind of guy himself; just one more way the two of them fit despite outward appearances.

But he was going to draw the line at sending Kekipi Jones any sort of thank you card.


End file.
